Stranger within the Gates (20 page)

"Oh!" said Fae involuntarily and then gasped, giggled, and went into a fit of choking that covered up the episode for an instant. The others gave one quick look and then with averted eyes went on talking. But the happy home atmosphere had chilled. They were all on their good behavior at once, of course, but the cheerful clatter of familiar home life was stilled.

Not that Florimel minded that. It was not her home, nor her atmosphere, and the quicker she could spoil the pleasure of the rest of them, the better for her purposes. This mother had to understand that she couldn't expect to have peace and happiness as long as she continued that tightfisted program she had outlined for Rex. She had to understand that she and Rex wouldn't stand for her treating them that way. She had to fork over their fortune or expect to have unpleasantness.

But Florimel was hungry, and the plate of food set before her was exceedingly appetizing, so she silently fell to eating. But there was no smile on her face, and her eyes did not meet theirs with friendliness. For all that she did she might have been a young tramp they had brought in to sit down with the family. She made no response to any questions addressed to her, except yes and no, and ate with her eyes on her plate.

Presently the family regained their composure and began to talk again, quietly, about indifferent matters.

"Have you seen Phipps Seymour lately?" Rex asked Paul.

"No, he's gone on that archaeological expedition that the university was sending out."

"Oh, has he? Say, that's great! I knew he was interested, but I thought they had enough men."

"One of their men broke his leg in an automobile smashup and, of course, couldn't go, so they took Phipps."

"Say, that's fine! I always hoped something good would come to him, he had to work so hard when he was a kid."

"Yes, I guess he was happy about it. His sister went as a missionary to Africa, you know, so that left him pretty much alone in the world."

"I heard a letter from her read in missionary meeting," said Sylvia.

"I always liked that guy. Even when he was teaching in high school I thought he was a good guy," said Rex. "I'm glad he's got a good situation. Who had charge of that expedition? Rathbone?"

"Yes."

They said nothing in which Florimel could possibly be interested. Girls didn't go to Africa as missionaries in her world, nor young men aspire to a place in archaeological expeditions.

The conversation droned on, and nobody looked at Florimel except when there was something to pass. Mary Garland tried to include her in the conversation but for the life of her could think of nothing to say except to ask her if she would have more bread or another piece of meat. Florimel answered her questions in short, sharp monosyllables. Stan and Fae were entirely silent, and Florimel looked at them in wonder, pondering how two modern youngsters knew how to keep so still. Yet with it all, the new member of the family could not help but be impressed with their pleasant unity, though their interest was in people and things that seemed to her utterly stupid.

Occasionally she cast a furtive look toward Rex. He seemed somehow to be a stranger to her, as in fact he was in spite of the bond of marriage. As she ate her dinner in almost utter silence, she wondered whether perhaps she had not overstepped herself by marrying him after all. Perhaps he had more ability to dominate her than she had counted on. She recalled his authoritative tones upstairs and realized that she had finally succumbed to his orders and changed her garments to come downstairs. She wouldn't have believed that of herself twenty-four hours ago. And now that her hunger was appeased, she wished she had not done it. The next time she would starve herself awhile and let them worry. It never paid to give in to people. Especially not to a husband whom she expected fully to dominate in a very short time now. Tomorrow she would go out and buy a few cakes and candies and nuts and keep them hidden to help her through a time of famine in case she found she had to work a hunger strike on this family she had acquired unawares. Candy would help out wonderfully. She had a few dollars stowed away in a safe place where Rex would never see it, against a time of need, and she would manage to have something eatable on hand another time.

So she kept her chin up and held her head proudly while she devoured the excellent dinner, even to the last crumb of crisp piecrust from the delectable lemon pie. Then she sat back and drooped in what she thought was a becoming manner in her chiffon robes and stared with wonder at them all.

Mary Garland gave the signal to rise from the table, and Paul, looking affectionately at his brothers, said, "Well, I thought I'd walk around and see old Uncle Fremley. You know, he always likes to have us drop in on him when we're home from college. Want to go, boys?"

"Sure!" said Rex, brightening at the affectionate tone. "Yes, I guess poor old Uncle Fremley finds time hangs heavy on his hands since he's all crippled up with arthritis and can't look forward to working in our garden next year. Come on, Stan!" And he clapped his younger brother heartily on the shoulder.

Stan, much pleased, marched after them, and they seized their coats and hats from the hall closet and were off before Florimel realized that they were going.

She looked up blankly.

"Where've they gone?" she demanded, looking stormily at Mary Garland's sweet, serene face.

Mary Garland looked up and smiled.

"Oh, they've just gone for a few minutes to see our old gardener who has been with us ever since they were babies. He adores them, and they were always very fond of him. It's not far, about three quarters of a mile."

"Gone to see a
servant
!" exclaimed Florimel, forgetting entirely the station from which her marriage with Rex had just rescued her. "Well, I like that! I certainly don't think Rex is treating me very well, walking off like that and leaving me all by myself!"

Her chin went up in the air, and her eyes snapped angrily. Mild yellow-lashed eyes like that snapping fire! It was a curious combination.

"Oh," said Mary Garland pleasantly, "I think Rex thought it might be a nice time for you and me to have a little talk together and get acquainted."

"I don't know why I should have to talk to you!" said Florimel. "I never was very much interested in old people, anyway, and we're not likely to have much to do with each other, as I don't intend to stay here. I don't see why we have to get acquainted, do you? You're only my mother-in-law. I didn't marry
you
, you know."

Mary Garland looked at the girl in sheer amazement, but she gathered her composure instantly and said in a pleasant voice, "Well, then that's all the more reason why we need to have a little talk and understand each other. Suppose we go up in my room. That'll be cozy, and since you're wearing a negligee it will be just as well to be out of the living room. You know, some of our old friends might drop in for a few minutes to see the boys, and you wouldn't want to be caught dressed like that. It might be embarrassing. We'll just go upstairs!"

"Embarrassing!" jeered Florimel. "
I
embarrassed? Well, I like that! Besides, this isn't a negligee. It's a tea gown for a high tea, and it's meant to receive people in."

But Mary Garland had led the way up the stairs with swift, quiet feet. There was no one to hear Florimel's jeers, for Fae had disappeared kitchenward. And if she wished to continue the conversation, she must perforce follow. She gave one disgusted look around through the empty rooms and then went tearing up the stairs, arriving almost as soon as the despised mother-in-law.

"Come right in here," said Mary Garland, gently, yet with a quality in her voice that held authority, as she led the way through her own door and drew forward a comfortable chair for the girl.

The three brothers walked into the wintery afternoon with zest. It was good to them to be together again, and they felt a fellowship that even Rex's sudden marriage could not quite dim. In fact, since they had seen Florimel it seemed somehow that there was a new bond of fellowship between them, in that they were sorry for him, tied to a girl like that, so obviously not of his kind! Oh, they still blamed him, of course, that he had got himself into a strait like this, but they pitied him more than they blamed.

Their talk fell to old times, recalling incidents of their childhood and school days, and Paul even gathered up a handful of snow, casually crushed it into a half-formed ball, and doused Stan with it, who laughingly brushed off the snow out of his collar and gave him back as good as he had taken.

So they walked down the familiar streets to the little cottage in a quiet section where the old gardener lived. They burst in upon him like rays of unexpected sunshine and rollicked and kidded him the way they used to do when they were young. And how he loved it! How he made them stand in a row to measure their heights! How he asked them if they remembered this and that incident of their childhood in which he had been connected. How he delighted in them!

They had brought him gifts for Christmas--a subscription to a magazine he liked that had beautiful pictures of gardens in it, a big box of candy that he could share with his friends who dropped in to see him, a warm sweater from their mother, woolen socks, and a pair of comfortable slippers. The old man's eyes were bright with happy tears as he opened the packages and said how much he needed this and that, and how he was going to enjoy them and think of the givers during the long lonely nights when he couldn't sleep. What wonderful people they were,
his
people,
his
family, he called them.

When they were away, their hearts were warmed with the quaint words of their old friend, and their own tears were somewhere in their throats, very near the surface.

"He's a great old Uncle Fremley!" said Paul meditatively, his eyes reminiscent of other days. "And wasn't he pleased, Stan, that you had sent that little tree up for him? Fancy his wanting all his presents hung on it, just like a child!"

"Yes," said Rex thoughtfully, his mind on the fact that he was going back to the house and would presently have to settle with his angry wife and explain why he had gone on this expedition. "I'm
glad
we went! We mustn't ever let the old man down. He was always good to us when we were kids, and we often must have been perfect pests when he was trying to work conscientiously."

"You're right," said Paul.

But Paul's eyes were on ahead, for he had sighted a couple of girls in the distance who would be meeting them presently. One was Marcia Merrill. He always recognized her at a glance, no matter how far away she was. But the other girl he wasn't quite sure of. Was that Natalie Sargent? Yes, it was. And how was it going to be for Rex, meeting her? She was Rex's old girl. For years they had gone together as children, playing tennis, boating, skating. Rex was married now! Did Natalie know it, and would that be something to explain? Had those two been keeping up a correspondence since Rex went to college? Probably not, or perhaps Rex would never have married Florimel. But what ought he to do about this meeting? Should he forewarn Rex?
Suddenly Stan looked up.

"There come Marcia Merrill and Natalie Sargent," Stan said in a low tone and gave a quick look at Paul, a look that almost seemed an echo to his brother's thoughts. Had Stan been thinking the same things? Paul wondered. He was only a kid. Would he be keen enough to realize the situation?

But Rex looked up instantly with a startled glance and recognized the two girls. There was a quick light of pleasure in his eyes, almost instantly followed by one of dismay. He frowned in a troubled way and dropped his glance to the pavement, saying slowly, "I thought Natalie went abroad. The last letter she wrote me, she said the whole family were going abroad."

Ah! Then they had been corresponding! Why had they stopped? Paul wondered. Had there been a quarrel, or was it just indifference? Had that anything to do with Rex's marriage?

But it was Stan who spoke next.

"Yes, they were going abroad, but Nat's dad got sick, and then something went wrong with the business and they couldn't go. Her dad's about well now, but the business is still on the blink, so Natalie stopped university and got a job. She's a secretary or typist or something with a publisher in the city."

"You don't mean it!" said Rex in a tone of consternation, almost as if it might have been his fault. "Why didn't anybody ever tell me?"

"Why, we all thought you knew it, of course, Rex," said Paul. "I don't know why we never mentioned it. I guess there's a whole lot more to that girl than we ever suspected," he added quite casually, as if she had just been any girl out of their past instead of the only one who in former days had seemed to be Rex's special companion whenever they were having good times together.

"Yes!" flashed back Rex sharply. "I always knew there was a lot to her. She was a peach. She was the real thing!"

He said it so earnestly that Paul could scarcely refrain from answering, "Then why in thunder, kid, did you ever mess your life up with the girl you've married?" But he walked on silently beside Rex, thinking it over and over until if there was anything at all in telepathy, Rex must have understood it, for there was a downcast droop about him that made Paul's heart ache for his brother.

In another minute the girls were upon them.
They had had time, of course, to realize who they were meeting and were on their guard. Paul remembered with relief that he had told Marcia yesterday about Rex's marriage. Marcia would likely have told Natalie, and maybe they wouldn't have to explain.

Then they heard Marcia's cheery voice.

"Well, if here aren't the wanderers! Welcome home, strangers!"

And then Natalie's voice, a little too cheerful perhaps, and just a shade too formal in tone:

"It's grand to see you both again. I hear you're married, Rex? Congratulations! You certainly gave us all a surprise!"

Rex looked down on her and grew red and embarrassed.

"Does look a little that way, doesn't it?" he hedged. "Perhaps it was a little irregular. Perhaps I should have had a high-hat affair with the doo-dabs and invited all my friends to be ushers, had two stringed bands and a procession. . ."